Yin and Yang
by CatrienStardust
Summary: Eclare; "It's true, though. They can play those five games, running in circles around each other, leading on and pulling away, but it still won't ever change the fact that she's his and he's not letting go."


**Author's Note: **I'm really happy with this. In case you're wondering, this is kind-of-but-not-really a collaboration with verbal acuity. She and I decided to both write a fic based on Eli and Clare's determination to not tweet each other. So, for those of you who have a Twitter, that's the plot base here.

By the way, is anyone else noticing that I'm having WAY too much fun with format? Italics, Bold, Underlines all over the place. Sorry 'bout that. (:

**Yin and Yang**

i. _[game one]_ – passion

He shouldn't hurt himself like this, mull over memories. It's a little _gothic_, even for him, to dig the knife in that deep.

[[ His lips sought hers, feeling warmth shoot from his toes to his forehead as she reached up to grip the back of his neck, pulling him closer.

( _As if that were possible_ ).

They weren't rushing into the kiss, but rather accepting that the tempo as it already was: hot and compassionate, with awkward, warm fumbling lips spelling out stories of hearses, broken glasses, and no-longer-restricted feelings.

They broke apart, and though her face was flushed and her lips were swollen, she still managed to look innocent, beautiful, and alluring all at once. The sight made his thoughts race and his heart flood with warmth he hadn't felt since Julia. ]]

He'd been able to see it in every move she made, from the way her eyes lit up at something she found unjust, to the way she'd looked then, flush in the aftermath of a kiss.

( _passion_. )

In the days of Romeo and Juliet and library kisses, her passion had been a plus, a desirable quality, something he _loved to see_.

He even wished to see it more often.

Less than a month later, he meanders around alone during break, thinking of how that wish came back to smack him in the face.

Funny how life works like that, huh?

ii. _[game two] _– stubbornness

She tried to contact him first, sending a very vague tweet asking how he was. They hadn't spoken since he'd said goodbye to her weeks before, after the dance but before the start of break. The image of how she looked waving goodbye would always remain imprinted in his mind.

( _tears made her blue eyes look even brighter._ )

It wasn't that he was avoiding her.

Just, the weight of unspoken words feels like cotton in your mouth, and it makes it hard to speak.

Typing was different, though, and maybe he would have responded, too... Had it not been addressed to _Adam _as well.

_Both of them_, like they were in the same category. It was stupid and primal, but if he was on the same level as their mutual best friend, then he had nothing more to say.

( _really, it hurt that she wouldn't be more personal._ )

The next day, she called. He quickly hit the ignore button. That'd give her the message, right?

(_ days pass, and the number of days left in break minimizes while the rift – and the break in his heart- maximizes. _)

iii. _[game three] _– regret

Books and television really downplay the devastating emotion of regret, he thinks.

It's one thing to make a choice- to go through with something painful and end up an ass. That's easy.

It's the aftermath that's the hard part; the worst thing in the world is to regret making a choice.

( _clare didn't deserve that. _)

He wondered how he got to be such an idiot. She'd obviously forgiven him, even tried to patch things up and speak again. But, Eli being Eli, he just had to be an ass and trample over her feelings. Again.

( _ignoring her calls? really? _)

With sweaty palms, he tweets her.

[[ hope you are enjoying your break. it's been a long time since we've spoken. ]]

( _translation: I'm a dick and I know it, I'm sorry, I miss you. _)

A day passes. Two days. He waits. But there's only silence from her end, save for tweets to Alli about the start of school and thunderstorms.

He should expect it, really.

Quoting Romeo and Juliet only gets you so far.

(_"Did my heart love till now? Forswear it, sight! For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night." _)

iv. _[game four] _– r e a l i z a t i o n 

It comes to him over coffee at The Dot one morning.

( _bitter. black. he'd never held fondness for sugar and cream._ )

The first sip burns him, and as he touches his sore lip, it hits him, not unlike lightning to a church steeple.

This is all a game, isn't it?

They're running around, their own personal cat-and-mouse chase, all the while trying to prove _what_?

What's their goal? What's their motive?

All he wants is -_her_- to be in his arms again, and he'd pay money that she desires that as well.

Call it an epiphany, divine intervention, whatever, it's somehow ground-breaking and novel, what's been obvious this whole time.

They play these games, and it doesn't prove anything, just tears them apart. He can feel this slowly turning rotten, like over-ripe fruit, and he _can't_ let that happen.

They're both so alike: Both hot-headed, passionate, determined, stubborn, and unrelenting. What was once their best qualities is tearing them apart.

He gnaws at his lip, wondering one thing:

What are they playing for?

( _maybe he's lost the rulebook _)

x. _[game five]_(_ the most dangerous game of all_ ) love

In the end, neither of them had to respond on Twitter.

He called her the next day, with shaking hands and racing thoughts.

On the first ring, she picks up, her voice small and shocked and laced with tears.

"Eli?"

They talk for a bit, catching up mostly, and she has to hang up. Something about "packing" and "leaving tomorrow" register dully in his mind, but he doesn't think about it too hard- he's too preoccupied with thinking about tomorrow, and her arrival home.

Though they don't make plans to see each other, there's a mutual, silent realization shared between the two.

( )

It's true, though. They can play those five games, running in circles around each other, leading on and pulling away, but it still won't ever change the fact that she's his and he's not letting go.

( _nottodaynottomorrownotever _)

There's a brief, awkward pause right before he hangs up. They've said bye, but she's taken a breath and the silence is adding to the cotton in his mouth, making everything feel heavy and dull again.

"Eli?"

"Yeah?"

"I miss you."

"I miss you too."

He holds the phone in his hand for a long time, battling with thoughts.

( _maybe these games have a point, after all._ )

"I think they're dead."

( _maybe I didn't lose the rules after all. _)

"Can you get anymore smug?"

"Absolutely!"

( _maybe there's something worth fighting for. _)

"Twist my rubber arm... girlfriend."


End file.
